Devotion
by Katie Havok
Summary: One dragot and eighty-seven sprinks. That was all. She had put it aside, one coin and then another and then another, in her careful buying of groceries and other items. Tina counts it three times. One dragot and eighty-seven sprinks. And the next day would see the arrival of Newt and Christmas. [Part of the Fantastic Gifts Secret Santa exchange.]


This story was originally published on Ao3 on December 23rd, 2017 as part of the Fantastic Gifts Secret Santa exchange.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

* * *

One dragot and eighty-seven sprinks.

That was all. She had put it aside, one coin and then another and then another, in her careful buying of groceries and other items. Tina counts it three times. One dragot and eighty-seven sprinks. And the next day would see the arrival of Newt and Christmas.

Tina puts her head in her hands. She's already spent too much money on the holidays, little gifts for Queenie over the eight days of Chanukah, a Christmas gift for Jacob (now a constant presence in their lives, and so fundamentally warm and _good_ that Tina can't find it in her to turn him away) and the extravagance of food. She had called it good enough and resigned herself to another year away from Newt, but then his letter had arrived and now she needs to come up with a gift for him with only one dragot and eighty-seven sprinks to her name.

Her eyes burn, and she fetches a deep breath before scrubbing them. "Not today, Goldstein," she murmurs, touching his letter with reverent but sad fingers before leveling herself out of the chair. She turns the taps to lukewarm before bending over the sink. Her locket clinks against the apron edge of the porcelain, and Tina absently pushes it aside as she pats her face dry, an idea slowly taking shape.

The locket is a comfortable and familiar weight between her breasts when she fingers it, anxiously chewing her lip. The gold is as shiny and clean as the day she'd received it, a gift from her Grandmother. Pressing the tiny hidden latch reveals a photograph of her family: Ma and Pa and Queenie, all of five years old and missing both front teeth as she beams up at Tina.

The dial side of the locket is empty, awaiting a picture—of her beloved, perhaps, or future children.

Tina fingers the delicate gold chain before tugging it over her head. She feels naked without the constant weight, exposed; but Mrs. Esposito has commented on this bauble regularly, promising a good price should Tina ever wish to sell it. Removing the precious photograph is the work of only a few seconds, and she reverently sets it on the mantle before smoothing down her hair and straightening her shoulders, shoving her feet into her brogues while grasping the door handle.

"It's only a necklace," she tells the empty apartment, and swallows the lump in her throat, trying to forget the way Newt had often assisted her with the piece of jewelry, always commenting on its simple beauty while helping her with the clasp, before brushing the nape of her neck.

* * *

Mrs. Esposito gives Tina five dragots and a sticky kiss on the cheek for the necklace, exclaiming, "It's just the thing I need for my _Troia_ daughter-in-law!" before thanking her profusely.

Now, standing before a jewelry store and feeling curiously lightweight, Tina reaches for the comfort of her locket only to remember that it's no longer there. She rolls her eyes at herself before yanking open the door, harder than she intends and almost overbalancing when she stumbles into the store. The shopkeeper is there to catch her, and she is poignantly reminded of Newt in the way he looks at her with mildly concerned eyes as she straightens her ruffled plumage.

"How can I help you?" he asks, maintaining his expression of polite inquiry as she fumbles her way through explaining what she wants.

"Yes, I have just the thing," he reassures her, and his spectacles glint mellowly in the low light when he shows her to the pocket watch chains and fobs. They're displayed next to a case of lockets and necklaces. Tina determinedly ignores them while perusing the wares.

She finds what she seeks almost immediately, crowing in triumph.

It's a sturdy-looking brass chain with a matching fob, carefully engraved with a detailed map of the world. She lifts it from the velvet display board, surprised at its weight until the owner explains that it is goblin-forged, "Guaranteed never to rust, bend, or snap!" It's exactly what she needs to replace the bespelled but worn leather band containing Newt's watch, a gift to himself when he secured the publishing contract for his book, and one of his cherished few earthly possessions.

"How much is it?" She asks, almost afraid of the answer.

"Three dragots and twenty-five sprinks," he says. Tina counts out the coins without comment, unwilling to argue her good fortune, especially when she has enough left over to secure good lamb chops for supper the following evening.

The shopkeeper wraps the chain and hands it over with a bright, "Happy Holidays!" Tina tucks it into a charmed pocket of her jacket for safekeeping before donning her cloche hat and heading toward the market, trying very hard not to _think_ as she examines the snowy wares.

* * *

Tina purchases meat, potatoes, and carrots and detours to Jacob's bakery for a loaf of bread before going home. A quick perusal of her wallet reveals that she's returning with precisely as much money as she had when she left—one dragot and eighty-seven sprinks. Tina voices a watery laugh while stashing the chops in the ice chest and unwinding her snowy scarf.

She's just hung her hat when a knock reaches her ears—low and hesitant and achingly _familiar_.

Newt looks at her from across the threshold when she yanks open the door, wearing an apologetic smile and shifting slightly from foot to foot. "I'm sorry," he says when all she can do is stare, "our ship came in a day early so I thought I'd stop by and say hello before finding accommodations." His smile dims as she watches, the handle of his case creaking when he nervously clenches his hands. "So, er—hello."

Tina comes back to herself with a start, reaching across the gap to haul him into the apartment before locking the door. There's snow dusting his hair and the shoulders of his constant blue jacket. She helps him with his scarf and gloves before taking his coat and finding a warm corner to stash his case.

"You're lucky," she explains as she works, hanging his coat besides hers and trying not to attribute any significance to it. "If you had come five minutes earlier, you would have missed me. I was out."

"I'm aware of how lucky I am," Newt says, and his slow smile makes her toes tingle as they stand and stare, re-familiarizing themselves with each other. Tina forces herself to look away from his lips after a few breathless seconds, examining the length of him until his fingertips press to the notch in her blouse, ghosting over bare skin. "Tina, where is your necklace?"

She holds her breath when his attention remains on her face, his eyes wide and somber. "Oh, that," she says, and wraps her fingers around his wrist, though whether to push his hand away or to keep it there, she couldn't say. "I had to sell it. Mrs. Esposito was always saying how pretty it was, and she needed a gift when I needed the money, so…"

Tina looks down when she can no longer bear his concerned gaze, studying his threadbare waistcoat only to find his ever-present leather thong and sunburst fob absent. "Newt," she asks through a constricted throat, "where's your watch?"

"I—I had to sell it," he says in a hoarse whisper. "I found myself returning to an extraordinary woman without a gift, you see. So I sold it so I'd have something other than myself to offer her." His hands frame her face when she jerks her head up, gaping at him. He sweeps his thumbs beneath her eyes, wiping away her tears before stepping closer. "Tina, why are you crying?"

She presents the simply wrapped package in answer, choking back sobs as he fumbles it open. He breathes out a shocked "Oh!" when he holds up the chain, the simple metal catching the light and glinting in his eyes. Newt presses his lips together while reaching into his jacket, withdrawing a tidy bundle tied with string and thrusting it into her hands.

The gift contains photographs, a few candid shots featuring a young Newt beaming up at his brother, and gently cradling a Hippogriff egg. Separate from those is a newfangled—and ghastly expensive, Tina knows—wizarding photo of Newt as she knows him now, smiling sweetly and maintaining prolonged eye-contact. There are three of these portraits: one large enough to frame and set on her mantle, one small enough to tuck into her wallet and cherish...and one just the right size to fill the empty half of a locket, ensuring he's always close to her heart.

Tina looks up to find him watching her nervously. "You're always asking for a photograph of me," he whispers by way of explanation, "so I thought—my watch was a rather battered and sad thing, but I received a decent price for it, and I sat the photos so that they could be... _here_." He touches the bare skin of her chest again, and Tina clasps his hand. "Right here."

"I'll buy another one," Tina breathes, and her face feels like it's going to crack when she grins, an expression so wide and open that it hurts in the best of ways. "I make enough money when it _isn't_ the holidays that I can afford it. You won't even notice a difference."

"And I shall buy a new watch," Newt says, catching and holding her eyes as he gently cradles her cheek. "Something better suited to this fine chain you've given me. Something I can be proud to wear." He leans in and before she can process what is happening, his lips mold to her jaw, warm and light. "Thank you, Tina."

She inhales sharply, clutching his lapels to keep him there as her mouth finds his throat. "You don't need to thank me," she breathes, fascinated when goosebumps pebble his skin at the humid brush of her words. "I know you'd do the same thing for me."

Newt shifts and she closes her eyes when he tips his forehead against hers, his hand gently carding through her hair. "I'm very glad to be home," he whispers. Tina opens her eyes to find him watching her intently. His other arm slides around her waist as she boldly steps into him, her head angling so their mouths are a hairs-width apart, his breath warm on her face.

"Home," she breathes, and he nods and moistens his lips before closing the gap, eyes drifting closed as they move together, kissing tenderly in the middle of her living room as the shadows grow long and snow gently drifts against the windowpanes.


End file.
